


8 Ways to Say 'I love you'

by thelittlestbishop



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers
Genre: 8 Ways to Say 'I love you', F/M, these two idiots are hurting me, yay another fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:08:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlestbishop/pseuds/thelittlestbishop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint/Natasha - 8 ways to say 'I love you'<br/>Clint's POV<br/>written for Brilliant_But_Scary_Bad_Wolf aka Julia<br/>u r gr8</p>
            </blockquote>





	8 Ways to Say 'I love you'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brilliant_But_Scary_Bad_Wolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brilliant_But_Scary_Bad_Wolf/gifts).



_4\. Whisper it into her hair in the middle of the night, after you’ve counted the space between her breaths and are certain she’s asleep. Shut your eyes quickly when she shifts toward you in askance. Maybe you were just sleeping_ _whispering._

He’s as sure as he can be that she’s asleep. Staring at her back he only could pray that she was really asleep. “I love you.” For a second he thinks he got away with it but she stirs and his eyes fall closed in the blink of an eye. They both know he wasn’t sleep talking.

_6\. Write her a letter in which the amount of circumnavigating and angst could rival Mr. Darcy’s. Debate where to leave it all day – on her pillow? In her coat pocket? Throw it away in frustration, conveniently leaving it face up in the trashcan, her name scrawled on the front in your sloppy handwriting. Let her wonder if you meant it._

Next he writes a letter. A god dammed long letter that makes him want to claw his eyes out because it is long and stupid and _pointless._ He ends it with ‘I love you’ in messy handwriting and afterwards throws it in the bin with a groan, her name written in the same mess over the envelope. He’s sprawled on the bed when Natasha gets back home, the paper catching her eyes. She sits next to him and reads in silence, eyes stinging with unshed tears. A small part of her thinks that maybe he actually meant it.

_5\. Blurt it out in the middle of an impromptu dance party in the kitchen, as clumsy as your two left feet. When time seems to freeze, hastily tack on “in that shirt” or “when you make your award-winning meatballs” or, if you are feeling particularly brave, “when we do this.” Resume dancing and pretend you don’t feel her eyes on you the rest of the night._

They’re sparring when he blurts it out, her body pining him to the floor. “I love you.” The words stumble out of his mouth and she frowns when he quickly shakes his head. “I love it when we do this.” He corrects himself because he’s a coward. She hits him again and he lifts her so they’re standing again, her eyes burning holes in his skin.

_1\. Spit it into her voicemail, a little slurred and sounding like the shot whiskey you downed for courage. Feel as ashamed as you do walking into work in last night’s clothes. Wake up cringing for days, waiting for her to mention it._

Clint is drunk. Absolutely drunk. And it was probably the reason he was calling in the middle of the night. She doesn’t pick up and he doesn’t know if he’s thankful for that. He takes a deep breath, preparing for the beep after her voice. “Hey Tashaa, I- I love you. Yes, I am drunk, but I still love you. I had to tell you even if I know you won’t believe me and we’ll argue about this in the morning. I know that. I love you, see you tomorrow.” He avoids her all day, or maybe it’s her avoiding him but it doesn’t matter because the next time he sees her is after a month because they were both sent on solo missions.

_7\. Wait until something terrible has happened and you can’t not tell her anymore. Wait until she almost gets hit by a car crossing Wabash against the light and after you are done cursing at the shit-for-brains cab drivers in this city, realize you are actually just terrified of living without her. Tell her with your hands shaking._

Half her hair is gone and she’s joking about getting a Mohawk as she tries to hide the pain she’s feeling every time she breathes. It was a car crash. A dumb car crash. She turned the car so she wouldn’t hit a little girl and the SUV went out of control. It should’ve been him. Coulson sat with him outside her room while they waited for the nurse to tell them they could go in and he knew he love her; he knew he couldn’t live without her. He has a whole speech ready for her. It’s gone the moment she opens her eyes and simply turns into conversation.

“Tasha…”

“What happened?”

“Car crash, you had surgery.” Natasha nods slowly, wincing. “I love you.” He whispers, reaching for her hand and her whole expression crumbles.

“Clint, I-” Coulson cleared his throat before stepping in and Clint flees.

 

_3\. Buy her flowers. Buy her chocolate. Buy her a teddy bear, because that’s what every romantic comedy has taught you. Take her out to a nice restaurant where neither of you feel comfortable and spend the whole night clearing your throat and tugging at your tie. Feel like your actions are more suited to a proposal than the simple confession of something you’ve always known._

She’s finally cleared for duty so he takes her for dinner, with flowers and fancy clothes and boy, he’s making a fool out of himself. She shoots him worried looks his way, making her carefully arranged hair bounce slightly. Everyone is giving them funny looks and smiles. He knows they’re expecting him to take out a ring when he can’t bring himself to tell her how he feels.

 

_2\. Sigh it into her mouth, wedged in between teeth and tongues. Don’t even let your lips move when you say it, ever so lightly, into the air. Maybe it was just an exhalation of ecstasy._

He pushes her against their bedroom door, his tongue making its way past her lips as their clothes fall around them. She moans as she sighs ‘I love you’ against her lips, he’s not sure he wants her to hear. If she did she doesn’t mention it.

_8\. Say it deliberately, your tongue a springboard for every syllable. Over coffee, brushing your teeth side-by-side, as you turn off the light to go to sleep – it doesn’t matter where. Do not adorn it with extra words like “I think” or “I might.” Do not sigh heavily as if admitting it were a burden instead of the most joyous thing you’ve ever done. Look her in the eyes and pray, heart thumping wildly, that she will turn to you and say, “I love you too.”_

Resting his chin on her side he smiled, looking down at her sleepy face. “Morning, hotshot.”

“Hey there.” He grins, drawing patters on the flat of her stomach and she hums before turning to lie on her back. “I love you.” She freezes, biting her lip and trying to think of something to say, but her eyes remain dry.

He can only pray she says it back.


End file.
